Page 3 of An Empress of Air & Chaos

True, Emara thought.

Cally opened the bag wide with dramatic flair that was fit for a theatre performance and revealed her newest fashions.

“What in the mother of Gods?” Emara’s eyes widened, her cheeks flushing crimson as she took in what she saw in the bag.

“Em, hear me out!” She placed out a hand to stop Emara from objecting. “I need a model to try these on and it must be you.” Cally chuckled. “You have no idea what I had to do to get my hands on these garments; and, as much as I would like to see them on myself, I need to see them on someone else first. I think it could change fashion as we know it. For women, of course.”

“Cally, no way! I am not wearing any of this stuff.” She dipped her hand into the bag and picked up a pink lace corset that had shimmering, intricate detail in all the places it needed to be. She had never seen anything like it. Certainly not in this house. Her cheeks blushed at the sight of it, even though it was beautiful.

“Oh, wow, Cally, where do you even get this stuff?” She flashed her best friend a look of concern before she surveyed the contents of the bag. There was no store in the village that would dare to dream of a front window that displayed or sold garments like this. The villagers would have a heart attack, or a brain aneurysm.

Or both.

Emara doubted any of the women in Mossgrave had seen attire like this, let alone owned any. “No, seriously, where did you get these?” Curiosity coated her tone.

“Well, you know that farm guy?” She patted down the lace that had peeked out the bag.

Cally never called a guy by his actual name. It was always, milk carton guy, or handsome welder guy, or there was even a handsome man who sold sugar at a stall in the village, so she had referred to him as sugar lips guy…

But never by their actual names.

“Uh-huh,” Emara confirmed, acknowledging that she was following which man Cally was referring to.

“He has family in Huntswood city!” she almost squealed. “And he takes trips up there and they have those markets there…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, we all know what kind of markets there are in Huntswood city,” Emara said, flustered, pushing the pink lace back into the bag.

The Huntswood markets were notorious for selling all sorts of black-market items you would never find in the fluffy village of Mossgrave—or anywhere else in Caledorna, in fact. Cally talked about them religiously.

Even in her sleep. She was obsessed!

But you couldn’t just wander into markets like that, you had to either know someone or be someone to be able to gain entry to them. And two small-time village girls weren’t exactly anyone special enough to gain that kind access.

“This stuff came from Huntswood city?” Emara almost sounded impressed.

“Yes,” Cally beamed. “Well, now you know that farm guy could be a great asset to keep around.” She walked over to the other side of the bed and swung around one of the four poster bed poles like she was dancing for someone special. “To be fair, I have heard all the boys from Huntswood City are great assets to have. They are hot and dangerous. City boys. Their sex appeal is unnatural. Off the charts. I have laid eyes on a few in the homes of the elite, their guards are often from the city and they do not disappoint.” She raised her eyebrow and a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she flopped onto the bed. “It’s a shame we have to stay in for the next couple of nights because of this lousy moon shit, or I could really be seeing what good-looking farm guy was all about.” She puffed out a dramatic sigh. “Grandma Clearwater needs to update her rules, Gods damn it. She is to blame for all your superstitious malarkey.” She flung a hand in Emara’s direction.

Emara blew out a breath and ignored any digs Cally took at her grandmother’s rules and said, “You don’t even know the guy’s real name and you have him bringing you all this...underwear.” She gestured to the display of feathers and lace and revealing bodices sticking out from the bag.

Cally rolled onto her stomach. “See it as a little preview for him.” Her azure eyes danced with wicked delight. As Cally giggled, the moonlight streamed through the window just a little bit brighter than before, casting a glittering light through her hair. “If he plays his cards right.”

“You heathen!” Emara laughed as she flung a few of the items that had been left out of the bag at Cally’s face. But she was quick and caught them with one hand.

“A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do to have some entertainment in this suffocatingly small village,” she said in a dismissive tone as she lounged back with her hands tucked behind her glorious crown of golden hair. Emara would bet the most expensive artwork in the gallery that Cally would move to the city if she could.

Callyn sat bolt upright. “I have the perfect garment for you to start with.” She scrambled onto her knees and caught hold of the bag before bringing out a black, lacey bralette that had sheer material dripping from the hem—and the undergarments to match.

Emara blinked.

Oh, Holy Gods above.

“Try it on. Please, please, pretty please with icing sugar on top.” Cally batted her eyelashes like snow was falling on them and she was trying to get it off. “It’s the most subtle one I have, and it has more coverage. It’s tasteful,” she tried to negotiate. Emara looked over the garment in Cally’s hand, and she had to admit that she had seen worse come out of the bag a moment ago.

Cally, in the interim, had formed a petted lip and moved her eyes to convey what could only be described as that of a puppy begging for a bone.

For the love of the Gods…

“Okay, fine.” Emara rolled her eyes. “But only if you stop making that face at me.” She pointed. “If I try this thing on, will you leave me alone? No more digging the brush into my scalp. No more black lines drawn on my face, making me look like I have bird wings coming out of my eye. No more creams or glitters or perfumes… If I try on this black undergarment, will you agree to nothing else tonight?” She raised her eyebrows uncompromisingly.

---